So many moments in my life hang like clothes on a washing line—they drip and dance, not alive but as real as my mind allows them to be. In the garden, I transition from a child into a dying man in the time it takes a leaf to fall to the ground. The leaf is Read more

It’s late morning, and the town stirs but not us. We toss and turn, fingering the remnants of our dreams as they recede like the tide. There’s dust and sweaty love. Bedsheets stained with last night’s lust as the gaps between the floorboards speak to me of my days at university. If I take a Read more